


How Dumb You Are

by SkyEverett



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bill Cipher Being Bill Cipher, Bill Cipher Redemption, Dark, Dark Character, Dipper's real name, Disney XD - Freeform, Gen, Hostage Situations, Human Bill Cipher, Journal 3, Mabel's just being nice, Psychological Torture, Redemption, Snow Globes, Spoilers - Journal 3, Stan O' War II, don't worry there aren't much, eye bats, lying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-06-10 16:43:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6964942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyEverett/pseuds/SkyEverett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set two years after the finale.  Bill's finally done it this time; he's escaped Stan's mind and is outside the barrier around Gravity Falls.  Weirdmaggedon II is in the making, but Bill's powers have been mostly depleted for some reason, and on top of that, he's in human form now with all the un-plesantries of that intact.  He wakes up from his escape in the middle of California, and who should he run into but the Mystery Twins themselves!  (Basically Bill's redemption arc.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dream Was Real

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! I'm not dead, I promise! I haven't been on here in a while, but there is a perfectly plausible reason for that. I've started college, so schoolwork has been taking up most of my time. I've also been working on an original piece that is going to be a LOT bigger than any of my stories here. I also have a little writer's block on most of my unfinished fics, and I hope that I can get back on writing them soon. So even if it takes a few years and I don't mark them as discontinued, I WILL finish them--count on it.

     “Hey, don't you think this ship would make a cool snow globe?”

     Ford looked up from his studies to see th **a** t his twin had appeared in the doorway to his cabin aboard the _Stan O'War II._ Ford smiled and imagined it: a tiny snow-globe in which water floated with absurd and eldritch creatures swimming in its depths...and above all of it, a minia **t** ure _Stan O'War II_ with two identical pilots manning it together.

     “Thinking of ideas for Soos' Mystery Shack?” Ford asked as Stan sat down next to him.

     “Yeah, I think,” Stan answered, rubbing his head a little. “It's an idea that's just **b** een in my head for quite some time.”

     “Maybe you can sketch it out,” Ford said, his eyes never leaving the map in front of him. “We haven't been experiencing much lately.”

     “Re **a** lly?” asked Stan with a smile. “I doubt that.” Ford narrowed his eyes. There was something that sounded a little off about Stan's voice…it sounded kind of tripled, like there were three of him speaking at once.

     “Stanley,” he began, “are you feeling all right?” When his twin didn't an **s** wer, Ford finally turned around to see that his brother had dropped to his knees and was shaking violently. “Oh my gosh!” Ford leapt off of his chair and knelt down next to Stan, trying to figure out what had put him in this state. “Stan, what's wrong?” Stan only pus **h** ed at his brother's shoulder in reply, an obvious sign that he should stay away. Ford didn't listen; he stared into Stan's face, desperately trying to find the cause of his sudden seizure. “Talk to me!” he yelled desperately. “Please, tell me what's happening!”

     “H-h-he's…you h-h-have t-to r- **r-run…”** Stan's lips barely moved as he struggled with the words. After a few more attempts at trying to get a message through to him, Stan went completely limp and collapsed on the floor of the cabin.

     “'He'?” Ford asked. “Who? What? Stan, stay with me!” Ford frantically turned his brother onto his back to check his pulse, but before he could do anything, a new voice spilled out of Stan's mouth, one that Ford hadn't heard in almost two years.

      **“Oh, Sixer. You can't possibly think your brother got his memory back fast because of some stupid pig and a scrapbook, can you?”**

     “Oh no…” Ford's eyes widened in horror. That was impossible. There was no way in all of creation. He was dead, Ford had done the unthinkable and erased Stan completely to do it…

 **“Oh** _**YES,”**_ Bill Cipher exclaimed, pushing himself up with Stan's hands and looking at him through Stan's eyes. **“Two years of long, hard waiting inside your brother's mind—all worth it for the look on your face, old pal!”**

     “This can't be happening!” Ford yelled.

     “ **Well, it's not happening right now per se, Sixer.** **You're** **dreaming** , **and** **so's** **your** **brother,”** Bill said. **“But I'm alive, and I've grown strong enough to escape him and wreak havoc on the world!** **We're very far away from Gravity Falls now, so there's no possible way you can trap me ever again!”**

     “No!” Ford exclaimed. “I'll find a way to stop you!”

     Bill laughed. **“You can try, but by the time you wake up I'll be long gone!** **And let's see how** _ **you**_ **like being trapped for a change!”**

     Ford screamed, but before he could do anything else, he found himself sitting at his desk with his head resting on several maps and notes. _“Stanley!”_ he yelled, almost hyperventilating when his brother didn't immediately come down the stairs to his room. But when he did, Ford was already on him, peering into his eyes to see if Bill was still there.

     “Whoa, what's going on?” Stan demanded. “Have you gone crazy—well, crazier?”

     “I needed to check,” Ford said. “Bill's alive, and he's escaped from your mind.”

     “What?” Stan replied. “That's impossible. I punched that little demon into oblivion!”

     “He's very tricky,” Ford said, and he tried to find anything that might be a lead as to where Bill's location was. “We need to find him before he does something drastic.”

     “It was a stupid dream, alright, Ford?” Stan muttered. “I have the world's biggest headache, so I'm going back to sleep.”

     Ford sighed; he would have to figure this out on his own. Or maybe it was just a stupid dream. He turned back to his desk and for the first time noticed that there was something written on his hand:

 _The dream was REAL!_ _-_ _Bill_ _▲_

_PS: Look what I did to your other hand._

     Ford held up his other hand. There was a very poorly drawn picture of what looked like a turkey on Ford's hand, with his thumb being the head and his other five fingers the feathers. There was another written message on his palm: _Oh look! A turkey!_

     Ford's blood ran cold. What was it that Bill had said? _“Let's see how you like being trapped for a change!”_ He rushed outside, waiting any moment for the fierce rain to splatter on his glasses…but it never came. The sky was completely clear, not a cloud in sight. His hands clenched the railing as he leaned over to look at the water, the vengeful ocean that was swarming with nautical creatures…but all he saw was a quiet, bluer-than-blue mass of liquid that was missing the sharp smell of salt and seaweed. He searched frantically for the slivers of light beneath the water that were the cause of fish darting around the boat…but they weren't fish, it was only a gigantic fish-shaped…sequin?

     Ford's brow furrowed in confusion. He tried to think of what could possibly be going on, and he remembered his brother's words from his dream.

_Don't you think this ship would make a cool snow globe?”_

     “No,” Ford whispered fearfully. He looked up as the air became alive with the bone-chilling sound of the dream demon's laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SV'H YVVM FMOVZHSVW FKLM GSV DLIOW  
> UILN NRMWH GSZG WVMRVW SRH DZB  
> SV DROO NVVG DRGS SRH LOW XZKGLIH  
> LM Z HFMMB, HFMMB WZB


	2. New Body

     “Ow…”

     Bill blinked, a terrible pain forming in his head. _What the—what happened?_ he thought drowsily as he grasped at the air for something to help himself up. Fortunately, his hand closed around his cane and he pushed himself upwards, still blinking furiously to keep the room from spinning hazily around him.

     He felt…different. It was a familiar feeling, but still one that was foreign to him. After all, he'd been nothing but a memory echo for two years now; practically everything was foreign and new to him.

     “Geez,” he muttered as the room he was in finally came into focus. “Where the heck am I?”

     It was a simple room with hard-wood floors, rafters on the ceiling, closets and bookcases on all the walls and a mirror on the far wall next to the door. There was a leather couch a few inches away from where Bill was lying— _Why couldn't I have woken up there?_ he thought begrudgingly—with a TV on a stand a few feet away from it. By the door there was a little fridge which was no doubt filled with all those mutilated plants and animals that humans called food.

     It was a simple attempt at a tiny man-cave, Bill decided. Not that he really cared much about it to begin with; it wasn't even his. What was more confusing to him was the fact that he wasn't floating upward like he usually did when he landed in a new place. He brought a hand up to rub his eye, but before he could do anything, he felt something…soft. And kind of…squishy. Slightly confused (he was still a bit disoriented), he raised his hand a bit higher and felt something kind of wiry…oh. This wasn't new. He'd felt like this when he possessed Pine-tree's body. But there was something off about it this time; it wasn't like he was stepping into a new jacket or something, he still felt completely like himself, no vessel attached. _But that can't be possible unless…oh no._

     A terrible fear was rising in Bill's mind as he stood up to rush over to the mirror…and immediately tripped over his own feet, falling face first on the wooden boards.

     “OWWWW-OW-OW-OW-OW!!!!” Bill yelled, holding his nose in pain. “Useless legs! Why don't they work?!” But then Bill fell silent as he realized something else: that beautiful, demonic echo in his voice was gone; he sounded flat and lifeless. Cursing repeatedly, he crawled over to the mirror and peered into it, hoping to get some answers.

     And that was when that day became the worst day of Bill's life. After gazing at his new reflection in shock, he let out a terrified screech and scrambled backward like he had been shot. He was _human._ His demonic triangle-form was gone; he looked just like any other meatsack would in their useless existence plane. And no matter how much he tried, he couldn't—change—back.

     “Sixer…what did you do to me?” he snarled. It had to have been him; he was the only one who would have thought up a spell like this one. “Wait…speaking of Sixer…”

     The demon-turned-human looked around for a possible hint that the spell he cast worked like a charm, and soon he found it on one of the bookcases: a small, palm-sized snow globe with a tiny grey ship inside. The ship was floating in deep blue waters with a plastic-looking squid lurking in its depths.

     Bill chuckled. “Well, this cheers me up.” He crawled over to the shelf and picked up the snow globe. “Not so fearless now, are you, Pines twins?” He shook the snow globe a couple of times, hoping that one of them was on deck so they could tumble into the fake water below, but there was no such luck. Oh well. He tucked the snow globe away in the pocket of his suit—despite his gross human appearance, he had been given a nice yellow and black suit with coattails (how he still managed to be sharp and dapper in the worst of times he had no idea, but he loved it). “Now…time to find out where the hell I am.”

     It took a while—longer than Bill cared to admit—to figure out how human legs worked. He briefly considered floating around like he usually did, but he still didn't know what this new body was capable of, and he didn't want to run any tests just yet—not after hurting his nose like he did. However, he quickly found out that he was still able to move things around, and he guessed that he was still able to make his trademark deals with other people (what kind of demon would he be if he couldn't make a simple deal every now and then?).

     Finally, he found some stairs and walked down them, hoping to get some kind of clue as to where he was and what was going on. After sneaking past some stern-looking humans in what looked like a kitchen, he found himself in a simple cafe. A few tables and chairs were set up inside, and other humans talked amongst themselves and sipped their drinks. An older-looking human was reading a newspaper, and without looking too suspicious, Bill managed to read off of the front page.

     “Piedmont, California?” Bill muttered. “Well, that's not very close to the middle of the Pacific. What put me here of all places?”

     “I swear I saw one, Mabel! It was here, just a few seconds ago!”

     Bill's eyebrows shot straight up. He knew that voice.

     A little bell clanged as the door to the cafe swung open and two very _familiar_ brown-haired siblings walked in. One was wearing a blue sweater with a postcard on it, while the other wore a blue T-shirt and jeans. On his head, he wore an ear-flap hat that Bill distinctly remembered belonging to that red-headed cashier girl back in Gravity Falls.

_Pine Tree? Shooting Star?_

     “Is this booth taken?” asked Dipper, not really looking up at Bill. His nose was buried in a book with the number 4 on it.

     “No…” answered Bill. Was the universe testing him? He had just returned to the real world and the two siblings that he had been plotting his revenge against had just popped up right in front of him.

     “Thanks,” Dipper replied and slid into the booth next to him.

     Mabel rolled her eyes and took the seat across from the two. “Sorry about my brother,” she said. “He gets so wrapped up in his nerd stuff that he forgets to be polite sometimes.”

     Bill didn't answer her; he felt a smile growing on his face. _Oh, you're going to want a first-row seat for this, Sixer—I'm going to rock your world._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MLD GSV WVNLM ILZNH GSV DLIOW  
> DSL PMLDH DSZG ULIN SV'OO GZPV?  
> HL WLM'G UZOO ULI SRH GIZKH, YVDZIV  
> SV'H ZH XFMMRMT ZH Z HMZPV


	3. The Strange Man in the Yellow Suit

     Dipper looked frantically around for the eye-bat that had just barely managed to escape his gaze. It had been two years since he had seen an eye-bat—who knew how many of them survived after Weirdmaggedon!

     “So kid,” began the man he was sitting next to, “whatcha looking for in there?”

     Dipper glanced up at him. He had blond hair with brown roots and wore a tri-color tailvest with brick designs near the waistline. His gloves, top hat, trousers, and shoes were black and there was a triangular eye-patch over his right eye. He wore an expression of mild interest on his face. Though Dipper had never seen him before in his life, he couldn't deny that he felt an unexplainable sense of deja-vu around him.

     “Um...you probably wouldn't understand,” he answered.

     The man smirked. “Try me. I've seen a lot of crazy stuff during my lifetime.” It was then that the man leaned over his journal with an almost hungry look in his eye. “Like these eye-bats. You've seen one around here?”

     Dipper felt an urge to close the journal, but he didn't want to arouse suspicion. “Yeah, I saw one just a few minutes ago. It flew right above this cafe.”

     The man smiled. “Did you know that they like electrical currents?” he asked. “It was probably following the cords that were hung above the cafe. There's a wifi box attached to the post on the corner—maybe that's what it's interested in?”

     “Really?” asked Dipper. Even Grunkle Ford didn't know about that…just who was this guy?

     “Yeah,” the man said. “Wanna go outside and take a look?”

     “Do I!” Dipper closed his journal and slid out of the booth with the man and Mabel right behind him, but then he stopped as he remembered Ford's warning. “Wait a minute,” he said, looking back at the man. “How do I know I can trust you?”

     The man regarded Dipper thoughtfully. “Hmm. The old don't-talk-to-strangers rule, huh?”

     Dipper's fingers tightened around his journal. The man was avoiding the question. “Something like that.”

     “Oh, come off it, Dip 'n' Dot,” Mabel said, laying her hand on her brother's shoulder. “He's just sharing his interests. That's how friends are made!”

     “Come on, Mabel, don't you think this is a little suspicious? An eye-bat shows up here in _Piedmont_ , of all places, then a man shows up and knows so much about them. It's a little off, if you ask me.”

     Mabel laughed. “I think you've been spending a little too much time thinking about Gravity Falls,” she said. “Don't worry, we'll be back there in a month or so.”

     Dipper stared at his sister. Why didn't she understand? It wasn't that he missed Gravity Falls—he missed it a lot, actually—it was that a weird happening was occurring _outside_ _of_ Gravity Falls, right where they lived.

     “Hey, hold on a sec,” the man exclaimed. “Did you just say Gravity Falls?”

     “You know about it?” Mabel asked, her eyes widening. They did that every time she was interested in something.

     “You bet!” The man smiled, showing off a row of perfect white teeth. “I used to visit Gravity Falls when I was a little kid. Only started coming back a year ago. I wanted to visit the year before that, but…” The man was silent for a second before continuing. “…I heard that some kind of crisis occurred. I thought it would be a good idea to stay out of the way until I heard an all-clear from the surrounding towns there.”

     Dipper narrowed his eyes. His story certainly seemed plausible, but was there any way to prove it?

     “In fact,” the man continued, reaching into his pocket, “I ran by their tourist trap during my visit last year.” He opened his palm, and held a little snow globe out to Dipper. “See?”

     Dipper examined the tiny snow globe. Inside was a bunch of fake blue water in which glitter, fake gems, and a plastic squid floated beneath its depths. On top of the water was a small grey motorboat with the words _Stan_ _O_ ' _War_ _II_ painted on its hull in red. It gave Dipper a twinge of nostalgia looking at that tiny boat. He didn't know where his grunkles were now, but he could only hope that they were still alive and kicking out on the Bermuda Triangle.

     The man's story had mostly won Dipper over, but he felt that there was one more thing he needed to straighten out. “You visited the Mystery Shack?”

     “Yup,” the man answered.

     “So…how's Mr. Pines doing, then? The man running the place. Is he alright? We couldn't visit last year because of what happened the year before. Our parents were…a little overprotective.”

     For a split second, Dipper thought he saw a smirk cross the man's face, but it was gone before he could make sense of it.

     “I don't know a Mr. Pines. Well, not personally. Mr. Ramirez—now, he would go on and on about Mr. Stanley Pines. Surely you know that Jesús Ramirez runs the Mystery Shack. Mr. Pines was the founder—isn't that right?”

     Dipper smiled. This guy seemed legit enough. “Okay, sir,” he said. “Sorry for being so nosy. Let's go look for that eye-bat.”

     “Sure thing,” the man replied, grinning as he grabbed a cane from his seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WLM'G UZOO ULI SRH GIRXPH  
> ORPVH UZRIRVH RM GSV TOVM  
> YVXZFHV GSLHV DSL SZEV  
> ZIV MVEVI HVVM ZTZRM


	4. Don't Move

_Fordsy really taught_ _you_ _everything,_ Bill mused as he and the twins strolled outside into the California air. _But I've been inside your head, Pine Tree; I know what makes you tick._

     “Look, there it is!” yelled Dipper ecstatically, pointing towards the telephone pole. Bill and Mabel looked upwards while Waddles trotted along aimlessly. He was right; the eye-bat was resting on one of the wires. But suddenly, it looked at Bill and started chattering excitedly—Bill's heart skipped a beat. _It recognized him._

 _Darn it,_ Bill thought, _even in this form, a servant recognizes its master…_ He raced to come up with an excuse.

     Dipper immediately closed his journal and put it in a messenger bag he had been carrying over his shoulder. “I know what you're looking at!” he yelled up at the eye-bat. “And you can't have it!”

 _Oh, he must think that it wants the journal,_ Bill thought. _Well, he did manage to make it look like the other three._ Bill locked gazes with the eye-bat and ever so slightly tilted his head to the left, gesturing towards the edge of town. The eye-bat chattered again and flew off. _If I could get them away from all this commotion…_

     “Hey, it's flying off,” Bill said. “Where do you suppose it's going?”

     “Well, there's a cave on the edge of town, and it is a bat,” Dipper said. “It's probably going there.”

     “Then let's follow it,” Bill suggested. “Maybe there's a cloud of them in that cave.”

     “Waddles! What are you doing?! Get away from there!”

     Dipper and Bill both turned their heads as Mabel broke away from them. Her pig had wandered aimlessly into the street and was watching some birds circling nearby. Without hesitation, the other Pines sprinted onto the asphalt towards her beloved little pet.

     “Mabel, no! That's dangerous!” yelled Dipper, his excitement abandoned. As soon as the words left his mouth—as if to jinx the moment—a car sped into view. Its panicked driver seemed to be stomping on the breaks repeatedly, but the car wasn't obeying. It swerved recklessly around Waddles, but in doing so, it put itself on a course directly at Mabel. Mabel looked up at the approaching projectile, and her eyes went wide with fear.

    _“MABEL!”_ screamed Dipper. She looked over at him, terror in her expression, her stance, her everything. Her muscles tensed; she opened her mouth to scream—

     Bill's hand tightened on his cane. _She's going to bolt,_ he thought. _And if she tries, she'll get hit for sure…_ For a brief moment, Bill contemplated doing nothing. After all, that'd be one less Pines to deal with, and the zodiac would be destroyed forever. But then the moment was over, and Bill had a better idea.   _Let's hope I manage to pull this off..._

* * *

 

     Mabel was ready to jump out of the way. She thought she could do it. There was only a matter of seconds before the car would be upon her, and she couldn't sit around and do nothing. She took off, but she had only made one stride before she remembered Waddles. She needed to save him, too—she turned around and tried to run towards her best friend in the world, but then she heard Dipper cry out. She turned towards him and prepared to run for it—

_**Don't move, Shooting Star.** _

     Mabel froze. The voice she heard was so deadly calm and steady that it brought every bone in her body to a screeching halt. For a split second, everything seemed to slow down, and the world around her took on a greyish hue. For some reason, the only two things that really stood out to her were Dipper—his eyes terrified, his mouth open in a frozen scream—and the man they had befriended. His hand was reaching towards her, like he was offering her help. Mabel, whose mind was scrambled from fear and panic, reached for him. _Help me!_ she yelled silently, and the man smiled. It wasn't a smile that reached his eyes, though. There was a small flash of turquoise when she looked at them…

     And the next thing she knew, the car had flipped onto its side and was skidding towards her. She braced herself for the impact, but it never came.

     “MABEL! Oh my gosh, are you okay?!”

     “Dipper…?”

     Mabel looked up, confused and winded, as her brother took her by the hand and led her away from the street. The car had stopped mere inches from her, and both she and Waddles—who was merrily trotting behind her like nothing had happened—had somehow escaped any kind of physical injury. Some police from across the street were called over to help deal with the situation.

     “Don't you ever scare me like that again,” Dipper exclaimed as he wiped sweat from his brow. “You could have been hurt, or worse!—please promise me that you won't do something that reckless _ever again_!”

     The gravity of what could have happened hit her like a ton of bricks. “I'm…sorry,” Mabel whispered, and buried her head in her brother's shoulder. “I'm so sorry for scaring you…” Tears were threatening to spill from her cheeks. She could have died. She could have _died._

     “You scared us all, kid,” the man in the yellow suit said. “I thought for sure you were a goner. What saved you back there had to be a miracle.” He knelt down and looked her straight in the eyes. His eyes—at least, the one she could see—was a strange shade of amber; it almost looked golden.

 _Why did I think his eyes were turquoise?_ wondered Mabel. _Maybe my mind's just playing tricks on me…_

     “Don't let a miracle like that go to waste,” the man continued. _“Understand?”_

     Mabel nodded slowly, but she couldn't shake the feeling that what happened to her wasn't a coincidence. She knew her mind had been all over the place during those few seconds, but the reason she survived was strongly connected to the man in front of her, she just _knew_ it.

     “Well…what do you say, Mabel?” asked Dipper. “Should we call it a day? After what happened to you…”

     “No,” Mabel replied. “Let's go catch that eye-bat. This might be the last time you ever see one, and I don't want a car crash getting in the way of another adventure.”

     “Excuse me, ma'am?” Mabel turned around to see a police officer standing behind her. “If you don't mind, we'd like to see if you're all right, and maybe answer a few questions about the accident for us.”

     Mabel opened her mouth to protest, but Dipper quickly said “It's okay, Mabel. You go talk to the police and we'll just take five for a bit. No harm done.”

     Mabel nodded and turned to the officer, not noticing that their new “friend” had sneaked back into the now-empty cafe. “Okay, sir,” she said. “What can I help you with?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ZMW MLD GSV KRMVH SZEV UZOOVM  
> GL SRH DVY LU ORVH ZMW SZGV.  
> DROO LMV LU GSVN SZGXS Z KOZM,  
> LI RH RG QFHG GLL OZGV?


	5. The Real Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: slight psychological horror ahead. Bill reveals a little of his dark side to Ford.  
> Also, Journal 3 spoilers about Bill's past.

     Ford had witnessed the entire thing.

     He had managed to make a gadget that allowed him to look through the fake image of the sky around the boat. There, he saw his niece and nephew. They both looked like they were growing into wonderful adults—Dipper even had his own journal. Ford found himself beaming with pride when he saw that, but he kept looking long enough to see Mabel almost get hit by a car.

_And then he saw Bill save her._

     His first thought was confusion. He didn't think that Bill was capable of being that kind. There was always a catch. Then he realized that Bill must have made a deal with her.

 _But there's just no way,_ Ford thought to himself. _Mabel wasn't near enough to shake Bill's hand,_ _and_ _they hadn't even looked at each other since leaving the cafe._ _Has Bill figured out another way to make deals? No, he can't be up to full power yet, it would take him weeks—if not months—to recover from lying dormant inside Stan's mind for two years…_

     “ **Why don't you and I have a little chat?”**

     Ford nearly jumped three feet in the air. He whirled around to face…a man. A man in a tailcoat, slacks, a top hat, and an eye-patch. He looked harmless enough, but he was staring at Ford with a look of pure, barely-leashed fury.

     Familiar fury.

 _It can't be…_ “Bill?” Ford whispered, shocked.

     In response, the man grabbed a fistful of Ford's turtleneck and slammed him against the wall of his cabin, pushing him up its surface until his feet dangled in midair. _**“**_ _ **How**_ _ **d**_ _ **id this happen, Sixer?!”**_

     “What—I don't—!” Ford sputtered.

     “ _ **This!”**_ Bill—now it was pretty obvious—pointed at his face. _**“What**_ _ **the hell**_ _ **did you do to me?!”**_

     It was then that Ford realized Bill wasn't possessing some poor man's body—this was the demon himself, somehow bound in human form. “I—I don't know!” Ford yelled. “It isn't my doing!”

     “ **Oh _reeeeeally?”_**

     He had never seen Bill like this. Well, he had never seen him _act_ like this. Every single time Ford had seen Bill, he always thought that he had the upper hand. This was different. He was angry, sure, but…he was afraid, too. He—an omnipotent, all-knowing entity—honestly had no idea what was going on, and it was scaring him.

     It almost made Ford want to laugh.

     “Really,” he answered calmly. “I did nothing to you and I have no explanation as to how it happened otherwise.”

     “ **You're a scientist, aren't you, IQ?”** Bill snarled. _**“Theorize.”**_

     Ford took a deep breath. He had to give Bill an answer fast, before Bill threw him against another wall. He felt that he could handle it, but he wasn't as young as he used to be, and his back was beginning to complain every so often.

 _Think. What would be a reasonable explanation for this? Something believable, something that would save me from_ _being thrown against another wall…curses, why couldn't my brother think something up? He excels at this kind of thing…wait. My brother._ Something plausible suddenly sprang into his head, something that might actually be a reason for Bill's condition rather than a quick lie to avoid further injury.

     “You were inside my brother's head for two years, right?” asked Ford.

     “ **That has _nothing_ to do with—!”**

     “Actually, it does,” Ford interrupted, taking Bill's outburst as confirmation. “I don't know if you've realized this, Cipher, but when it comes to dealing with multiple dimensions at once, you adapt to them. Physically.”

     The red light in Bill's eye faded a little, but the grip on Ford's sweater didn't lessen. **“So?”**

     “When you're in the mind-scape, you can look like whatever you want, because dreams don't have any definitive form,” Ford continued. “But when you enter another world—like this one—you have to adapt to our standards. You did that when you possessed myself, Dipper, and that odd-looking time-traveller. It was only when your dimension was allowed to leak into ours that you could take on a physical form of your own here. So after hiding in my brother's mind for two years, you took a chance and tried to escape, but your physical body is still in Gravity Falls, half-buried in dirt and covered in moss.”

     This time Ford could feel Bill's grip slack a little as the demon-turned-human began to put things together, but Ford kept talking, riding his burst of confidence for as long as it would last.

     “Without your body or anyone to possess, you were forced to abide by our laws of science, meaning the only form you could take was the one you're currently in right now. You always have to go through so much trouble to exist in three-dimensional worlds, and I always wondered why. Maybe it was because dreams only exist in the subconscious, maybe it was because you thrived on deals somehow. Or maybe it was because you needed good, solid evidence that you weren't a _simple, lowly polygon_ from the _second dimension_ anymore.”

     Bill dropped him. Ford wasn't expecting it and landed on his rear— _hard_. But Ford knew he had struck a nerve; Bill's eye widened in utter astonishment.  He stared, flabbergasted, at the wall, probably wondering how Ford even knew, since it had never been mentioned.  Well, he had his dimension-hopping to thank for that.

     For a moment, no one moved. Ford knew he had gone way too far and made a mental note to never get that high on confidence again. Slowly, Bill turned to look at Ford and knelt down beside him. Ford flinched, expecting the worst.

     “ **Not bad, Stanford Pines,”** Bill said softly. **“But not good enough.”**

     “W-what do you mean?” Ford stuttered.

     “ **Somewhere in that little head of yours, you think you have the upper hand here.”** Bill laid his finger on Ford's forehead, and he was immediately pulled into a vortex of memories. He was shaking Fiddleford's shoulders. Running from the shape-shifter. Visiting Parallel Earth. Getting the plate installed in his head. Dimension 52.

     “ **You think that you can escape this little prison and rescue your little niece and nephew like the little hero you're supposed to be.”**

     Bleeding from his right eye. Townsfolk with yellow eyes. Dipper being possessed. Mabel trapped in her bubble. A throne of human agony. Him and his brother fighting. Bill entering Stan's mind. Ford pulling the trigger on the memory gun—except it wasn't a memory gun, it was an actual gun, sleek and shiny, blood everywhere—

     “STOP!” yelled Ford, slapping Bill's hand away. He scrambled backward, trying to avoid another onslaught.

     “ **It's funny how dumb you are.”**

     “NO!” Ford stood up and backed up towards the door. “I _will_ break out of here, and I _will_ stop you! You won't lay a finger on those kids!”

     “ **Oh, but I** **already** **have,”** Bill said, his maniacal expression back on his face. **“I saved little Shooting Star from certain death, and I already have endless ideas of how she'll return the favor.”**

     “That wasn't even a real deal; you're not strong enough yet!”

     “ **Maybe not now, but things change, Sixer.** **Things change.** **Maybe after I've trapped the kids I will let you out, and then you can watch over your** _ **brain-dead brother**_ **and your so-called** _ **legacies**_ **as they** _ **suffocate**_ **in** _ **darkness.”**_

     “NEVER!” yelled Ford, and ran outside to the deck. He was panting hard, the horrific visions Bill gave him still swirling around in his mind. But there was one word that scratched at Ford's mentality: brain-dead.

_What did Bill mean by that?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SZEV BLF IVZW YVGDVVM GSV ORMVH?  
> GIVVH DROO UZOO, KIVUVIZYOB KRMVH  
> QFHG PVVK IVZWRMT ZMW BLF'OO HVV  
> SLD NFXS LU Z WVNLM R IVZOOB XZM YV!


	6. Common Sense

     When the man came back out of the cafe, Dipper and Mabel were both waiting for him. “Sorry 'bout that, guys,” he said apologetically. “Forgot to pay. Now, which way did that little nightmare go?”

     “Over that way, I think,” Mabel said, pointing in the direction of the cave. “Looks like it may be headed towards that cave after all.”

     “What are we waiting for, then?” asked the man. “Onwards!”

     Dipper nodded enthusiastically, and the three set off. They wandered through the streets of the town, stopping occasionally to check if the eye-bat was in their sights, and for the most part, it was. It was almost like the thing was waiting for them. Dipper made sure not to lock gazes with it every time it chattered—he had seen firsthand what they could do.

     Pretty soon, the lights of the town faded away as the creature led them up a rocky slope. It was pretty steep, and several times Dipper found that he tripped over small pebbles and stones. Mabel didn't seem to have a problem with it—in fact, she was in the lead. She just jumped over particularly odd-looking rocks and magically managed to find flat spaces on the ground.

     Their new friend seemed like he was both completely comfortable and struggling at the same time. Once or twice he'd take a wrong step, but then he'd just push it out of the way with his cane and take his next step with a kind of spring in it.  It seemed like he was floating from one rock to the other…with a weird landing every time.

     “Dipper! Watch out!”

     Unfortunately, he was focused too much on the people around him than where he was going himself. He put all of his weight on an oddly-shaped rock and immediately lost his balance. He tipped backward dangerously, his journal flying out of his hands as he let out a cry of fear.

     “Whoa, easy!” A gloved hand snagged Dipper's arm just as he was about to fall on his back. The man was standing, perfectly balanced, on two spaces between rocks. His cane was wedged between another rock and the ground, keeping both himself and Dipper steady. He looked down at Dipper with an expression akin to annoyance. Dipper could almost feel the waves of frustration rolling off him. _Geez, kid, clumsy much?_

     “Sorry,” muttered Dipper, his face hot with embarrassment.

     The man sighed, then pulled his cane out from underneath the rock. “You're fine. Just these stupid rocks.”

     “Dipping Sauce!” Mabel hurried over, leaping from rock to rock like some sort of butterfly. “Are you okay?”

     “Yeah, just startled is all,” Dipper replied. “Wait—my journal! I dropped it!” He searched around him, trying to see if it had tumbled down the hill, but instead his eyes fell on the man picking it up from the ground. Gratefully, Dipper held out his hand for it, but the man didn't let go of it as quickly as Dipper hoped. Instead, he looked over it for a few seconds before handing it over to Dipper again. “Pretty impressive that you made this all by yourself, kid.”

     “My long hours of arts and crafts therapy have paid off,” Mabel said dreamily. “Now my bro-bro can make anything he wants instead of just scribbling nerd stuff everywhere.”

     “Uh-huh,” the man said, and Dipper could tell that he wasn't ready for a lecture on why tissue paper was a perfect alternative for colored glass.

     “We should get going,” he said hurriedly before pulling Mabel along. “I think I can see the cave!”

     And so he could. It had a small entrance, but Dipper knew that if it was home to an eye-bat, it would be a lot bigger on the inside. After all, the only other place eye-bats lived (at least to Dipper's knowledge) was the Fearamid, and that thing had been HUGE.

     “Oh man,” he breathed. “Did anyone bring flashlights? I have one in my bag, but will it be enough for the three of us?”

     Mabel whipped out her phone and turned on her flashlight app. “Do you want the regular light or disco?”

     “Regular,” Dipper said quickly. “We do need to be able to see.”

     “Good point, Dipdop.” Together they shined their lights into the mouth of the cave.

     “Whoa,” the man muttered softly. “Perfect…”

     The place was like a cavern. A small ledge led slowly downwards, but other than that it was just black, open space, stalactites dripping water down into its depths. From above, the trio could hear the slight chattering of the eye-bat they had followed.

     “What do you say, bro?” asked Mabel. “Ready to head into the unknown?”

     “Nope,” Dipper breathed; his heart was pounding inside his head, but he couldn't tell if it was from fear or excitement. “Let's do it.”

* * *

 

     The descent wasn't the best. There were parts of the ledge that crumbled away and they had to choose their steps carefully. There were many times when Mabel and Dipper stumbled, but now that they were inside the cave, their new friend didn't seem to care as much. Dipper found it a bit strange; he had saved Dipper from a fall that would have at most given him a sore back for the rest of the day. Here, falling meant at least a broken limb, but he just shrugged it off like it was nothing.

     Suddenly Dipper stopped, his hands clutching at the straps of his messenger bag. His heart started pounding again, and he could feel a chill that had nothing to do with the cold, the pressure, or how far underground they were. He couldn't grasp what it was exactly that gave him this feeling; all he knew was that something was very, very wrong about this setup. They were in a cave, maybe a hundred feet underground at this point, with a stranger that they just happened upon at their favorite cafe. Said stranger seemed to share Dipper's love of the supernatural and of Gravity Falls. Now they were following a supernatural wonder that just happened to show up and lead them here under this stranger's direction… _and they didn't even know his name._

     “Dipper?” Mabel turned around and walked back towards him. “Are you okay?”

     “Mabel, something's wrong,” he muttered, softly so the stranger couldn't hear. “We need to have a proper talking-to with this guy.” He briefly explained what was on his mind. “There are too many coincidences. And he…I'm sorry, but doesn't he look familiar to you? Not good familiar. Bad familiar.”

     “…Yeah, a bit,” said Mabel after a short pause. “And there was a moment during the car crash when…” Her brow furrowed and she looked confused. “Anyway, let's find a place to rest—then we can talk to him.” She ran ahead to catch up with the stranger. “Hey, sir? I think we should take a quick break. All this walking's making Waddles tired.” They all looked at Waddles, who immediately sat down and made a noise that could have easily passed as a groan of exhaustion.

 _Did Mabel train Waddles to respond to certain words?_ Dipper thought. _He definitely has me fooled…_ Out loud he said “I think I see a platform over there that looks steady enough.” He fixed the stranger with a gaze that he hoped conveyed the obviously exhausted condition they were all in.

     The man met Dipper's look with something that might have been protest, but eventually he just shrugged and said “Fine by me.”

     Slowly, carefully, they made their way over to the platform. Stalactites and stalagmites jutted from the ceiling and the floor. It was on one of these that Mabel chose to lean against when she sat down and rubbed Waddles' back. “It's okay, pal,” she whispered. “Just a little more.”

     Dipper had to give her credit; she was playing her role very well. But the time for theatrics was up; Dipper turned to look at the stranger and gave him the most serious look he could. “I think I should get straight to the point here,” he said.

     “Got something to say?” the stranger asked. “I was thinking about going a little further—”

     “Who are you?” interrupted Dipper, a bit fiercer than he intended.

     “What?” the stranger replied, taken aback. “Kid, I'm—”

     “Don't call me 'kid',” Dipper snapped. “And don't expect me to fall for anything else!”

     “Um, what—?”

     “There are way too many coincidences surrounding you and this whole eye-bat business. First the eye-bat shows up, then you, then…you manage to trick my sister and I into leading you here, and you don't even introduce yourself! We don't even know your name!” Dipper had worked himself up at this point, and he glared at the stranger angrily. “I'm not leaving this spot until I know who you are and what you're planning!”

     The stranger stared at Dipper bemusedly. For a second, Dipper thought he had gone too far, but then the stranger did something that Dipper would have never seen coming: he started laughing. It wasn't a short laugh, though, it was a full-on evil cackle. Dipper looked at Mabel, but she looked just as alarmed as he was.

     “ _HAHAHAHA_ —oh man—oh _gosh_ —this is just _too good_ —kid, you never fail to surprise me!” The stranger turned on Dipper then; there was a maniacal glow in his eye that made Dipper's hair stand on end, but Dipper stood his ground. He had faced much worse than this.

     “What do you mean?” he asked. “We've never met…wait…” That was a lie. He _had_ met him before—he just couldn't place where.

     The man grinned as he towered over Dipper. “Starting to remember? Well, I condone you for that. Despite your previous attempts, you'll find that I am _very_ hard to forget!” He let out another laugh. “Oh, Sixer's raised you well. This is just _rich_ —wait until a stranger leads you into a dark, scary cave, _then_ make your demands. A+ in common sense there, _Pine Tree!”_

     Dipper's blood turned to ice. There was only one person in the world who called him that. Only one person who would _ever_ call him that. Dipper was wrong—he hadn't faced worse than this. This was his fear staring at him straight in the face, the horror that woke him up at night, the echo of the greatest catastrophe he had ever witnessed…and now it was back to toy with him again, impossible as it was.

     “Bill……C-Cipher…..?”

     The man snickered. _“In the flesh,_ _kid.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 21-8 15-8


	7. Escape

     Needless to say, Pine Tree's reaction was hilarious.

     Bill could almost see his heart pounding inside his fragile little ribcage, blood rushing and freezing in his veins, eyes so wide and pupils so tiny that Bill was expecting them to pop out at any time. His lips trembled, trying to grasp at words when there were none to say, and his eyelids had become nonexistent at this point.

     Oh yeah. Hilarity at its finest.

     Bill laughed again, relishing every second of this moment. He had both sets of Pines twins right where he wanted them, and they were far from any kind of help. And unless Dipper had any weapons of the sort in that little messenger bag of his, everything was going to go _beautifully._

     He mentally reached out to his little servant, who had been hovering fairly near them for a while. _**Bring it down.**_

     He heard a soft chitter in reply, and the ceiling above them began to shake. Mabel's eyes widened as a stalactite came crashing down in front of her, missing Waddles by an inch. “What's happening?!” she yelled; her voice grasping at decibels that no child could ever reach. “Dipper, help!” But Dipper was past reasoning with—his fear had brought every nerve in his body to a screeching halt; he probably couldn't even hear her.

     “IT'S FINALLY TIME FOR YOU TO DIE, KIDS!” yelled Bill, high on his own insanity. “HAVE FUN SUFFOCATING!”

     “No!” yelled another voice, seemingly out of nowhere. “Mason Pines, snap out of it this instant!”

     Dipper blinked slowly. “Great-uncle Ford…?”

     “What?!” Bill glanced down at his jacket pocket, where tiny Sixer was banging on the glass.

     “His jacket!” yelled Mabel. “Waddles, get 'im!”

     Bill turned on Mabel with a sickening smile. “Oh, and you think you're gonna save the day, huh?”

     “Nope,” Mabel answered. _“He_ is!”

     With one of the most adorable _oinks_ ever known to mankind, Mabel's pig launched itself at Bill, who only had enough time to widen his eyes before it had knocked him flat on his back and began to chew the lapel on his tailcoat.

     “Get _off_ me, you living slab of pork!” Bill yelled. “Do you have any idea who I am?!”

     “Nope,” Mabel chirped. “I'll bet all he sees is a giant human-shaped Dorito! Come on, Dipper!”

     “ _I said get OFF!”_ On the word 'off', Bill grabbed Waddles by the collar and yanked him off of him, tearing off his left lapel in the process, and sending the snow globe flying. “Wait—no!” yelled Bill, and tried to snag it with his free hand, but Dipper plucked it out of the air.

     “I don't know what you're doing here,” Dipper began, his voice a lot steadier than Bill expected. “I don't know what your motives are. And frankly, I don't have time to care. But whatever you were going to do with us—it ends right here, right now!” He raised the snow globe high, preparing to dash it on the rock.

     “ _Do you care about your family at all, Pine Tree?!”_ Bill screeched as he got to his feet, still clutching Waddles by the collar. “Break that and you'll never see your uncle's smile again!”

     “What…?” Dipper paused as he stared at Bill. “What do you mean…?”

     Bill opened his mouth to answer, but at that exact moment a stalactite struck the ground in front of him. The rock beneath him crumbled away, and he fell. Pure, unbridled terror filled Bill's soul before his cane yanked him to a stop in midair. Actually, someone had grabbed onto the other side of it, and he looked up to see who it was. Mabel.

     “Waddles!” Mabel yelled; there were tears in her eyes as she gripped the handle of Bill's cane tightly. “Don't you dare let him go!” Bill had lost his grip on Waddles' collar, but managed to catch it with his foot.

     Bill grasped the cane with both hands. He had realized too late that he was still unable to fly, and he had no idea what would happen to his fragile body if he fell…and he didn't want to find out. “If you let go, your walking pork chop's as good as dead,” Bill warned.

     “His name is _Waddles,”_ Mabel insisted, gripping the cane for dear life.

     “Fine… _Waddles_ , then,” Bill replied. “How much is his life worth to you, eh, Shooting Star?”

     “Mabel,” Dipper started, his voice gentle. “I'm sorry, but do you really want Bill on the loose again?”

     “Yeah, listen to your brother,” Bill snarled. “Throw me off a cliff, but then you'll lose your best friend in the world, won't you? You'd probably stay at the mouth of this cave, depressed for months until you waste away—you remember, Pine Tree, when she lost that pig to Pacifica?”

     “How the heck do you know about that?” demanded Dipper.

     “Oh, I know lots of things,” Bill said with a smirk, still fighting the panic that was threatening to rise to the surface. “Come on, Shooting Star. Save me, save your best friend in the whole wide world.”

     “Wait…” Mabel looked Bill straight in the eye, her gaze burning with questions. “It was you, wasn't it? You, back there, with the car…you saved my life, didn't you?”

     “Ding-ding-ding! We have a winner,” Bill replied. Still Mabel hesitated. “Oh, come on!” he protested, finally unable to keep his voice from shaking. “I'm the invisible wizard! The password is 'gullible'! The answer is forty-two! _What else do you want?!”_

     “Mabel,” Dipper warned, “the cave's going to collapse at any moment. Is Waddles really worth—?”

     “Of course he is, stupid,” Mabel cried. “Just…get over here and help me!”

     Dipper blinked, but he ran over and grabbed the cane. Together, they pulled Bill up until he could grasp the edge of the cliff by himself. At that point, Dipper let go, but Mabel hovered nearby, ready to help if needed. But Bill managed to pull himself up. Mabel immediately grabbed Waddles and hugged him close to her chest, glaring up at Bill. For a moment, no one moved.

     Bill ran a hand through his hair. “Whoa…thank y—” Another stalactite cut him off as it smashed to the ground behind them.

     “We have to GO!” yelled Dipper, grabbing Mabel's hand. Together, they ran off towards the entrance with Bill at their heels.

     Panic was an emotion that Bill had only felt once—when he was at the mercy of Stanley Pines. But it had only been for a brief second, because he managed to hide in Stanley's memory. This time, he was human, powerless, and scared, and he knew that if something fell on him, he was going to die—no secret way out this time.

     The four of them burst through the entrance to the cave as the entire ceiling crashed into the path they were just on—a cloud of dust followed them out as they ran down through the rocks. Bill's mind was on hyperdrive, struggling to pinpoint the sturdier rocks from the loose ones, but soon Dipper tripped and Bill fell over him. The two of them rolled unceremoniously down the rocky slope, with Mabel and Waddles running after them. Finally, the two lay sprawled on the grass, tremendously out of breath. Bill's jacket was torn in more places than one, his pants and face were smudged with dirt, and—to his great dismay—his hat was missing. _It must have fallen into the abyss,_ he thought angrily. _That was my only hat, darn it!_

     Dipper recovered first. He was up before Bill could push himself off the ground, despite having scraped both knees and one of his cheeks. “All right, Cipher,” he ordered, removing the snow globe from his vest pocket. Bill's eyes widened as he stared at it—it was cracked. _Was that why Sixer was able to communicate with Pine Tree back in the cave?_ he wondered. “You're going to tell us what you're doing here. And you're going to tell us why this thing is so important. I don't think you're in a position to argue.”

     Bill snorted. “Aw, my little puppet's trying to be tough. That didn't work out so well for you last ti—!” He was cut off as Dipper's fist connected with the soft flesh that humans called eyelids. Immediately fresh pain bloomed behind his eye and red spots danced in his vision. “OW!” His hand went up to assess the damage. “Why is it the eye? Every time it's the eye!”

     “Probably because it used to take up most of your face,” Mabel replied. “So we're used to aiming there!”

     “Answer the question,” Dipper demanded. “Tell us what'll happen if I break this right here and now!”

     Bill smiled. “So you did grow some after all. Fine.” He struggled to his feet and leaned down to whisper in Dipper's ear. “Two words, Pine Tree. _Brain. Dead.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15-14-3-5 1-7-1-9-14 1-20 20-8-5 13-5-18-3-25 15-6 20-23-9-14-19  
> 9-20'19 1 22-9-3-9-15-21-19 7-1-13-5 15-6 23-8-15 12-15-19-5-19 1-14-4 23-9-14-19  
> 21-16 14-5-24-20 9-19 16-18-15-2-1-2-12-25 23-8-1-20 25-15-21 23-1-14-20 20-15 19-5-5  
> 23-8-1-20 15-14 5-1-18-20-8 4-15 20-8-15-19-5 20-23-15 23-15-18-4-19 13-5-1-14?


	8. Leverage

     “ _What?”_ Dipper raised an eyebrow. Was Bill being cryptic? Not that it was new or anything; but that was an incredibly vague answer. “What are you playing at?”

     “Will he lose his mind or something?” asked Mabel. “Talk straight for once!”

     Bill took a step forward, his eye fixed on her. “Wouldn't that be interesting,” he sneered. “But no, I'm not _that_ merciful. Insanity would be an easy way out of the mess you humans call life.”

     “But _you're_ human,” Mabel protested.

     “Oh yeah? Can a human do this?” Bill's hand flashed turquoise and a few rocks around him rose into the air. But after a few seconds the glow faded and the rocks floated back to the ground. Frustration flitted over his face before it settled back into smug, sadistic content.

     “Wait a second,” cried Mabel. “You don't have all your powers! That's why you couldn't fly out of that hole and save yourself, and that's why you couldn't keep those rocks afloat for so long!”

     Bill's expression darkened. “Watch it, Shooting Star—”

     “I'm right, aren't I?” Mabel demanded. “Something happened to you and you can't do anything to us anymore. Break it, Dipper, he's bluffing!”

     Dipper nodded and raised it high above his head. “This is the end of you and whatever you have planned—!”

     “You honestly think that your stupid pig was the reason ol' Fez got his memory back?” Bill interrupted. “Just one little snuggle and that was it? If that's honestly what you think, you're a lot dumber than I could have ever imagined. It was me; _I_ protected his memories from the memory gun. _I_ made sure that all those _sickly sweet_ summer moments came back fully intact. With a little help from you two and Sixer, he was fine in a few days. Of course, there was a catch, as there always is with me.”

     Dipper's mouth dropped open. If what Bill was saying was true, then that meant he had never died to begin with. He, Mabel, and Ford had gone through a terrible heartbreak for nothing. And Bill had been watching them from inside Stan's mind ever since the end of Weirdmaggedon. “You...you're part of Stan's memory…you were watching the whole time...hiding in Stan's mind?”

     “Always watching,” Bill snickered. “But now I'm outside his mind, obviously. And without me as a tether to those memories, yeeeeaaaaah….he should be nothing but a vegetable at this point.”

     The look of horror on Mabel's face nearly broke Dipper's heart. In fact, his own emotional psyche was in danger of shattering as well. This was an all-new kind of torture. Two years of nothing but emails and Skype calls from their grunkles, and the next time he even saw them, one of them would be far, far out of his reach, this time for good.

     “You...you're a monster,” Mabel whispered, tears streaming down her face.

     “Yup,” replied Bill smoothly.

     “What the heck do you get out of this?!” yelled Dipper. “Is our misery really that entertaining to you? Why can't you just leave us alone?!”

     “Well, I got the fact that you'll believe anything I say,” Bill cackled. “Kid. _Relax_. What if I were to trap all those memories inside a tiny snow globe that I could carry around in my pocket for safekeeping? Of course, if it were to break, they could be lost forever, so...be careful with that, Pine Tree.”

     Dipper's eyes widened as he looked at the snow globe. He gripped it tighter in fear that he might drop it, and peered through the glass. There, on the deck of the tiny Stan o' War II, was a tiny replica of Stanford Pines, waving his arms back and forth frantically.

     “Great-uncle Ford!” he yelled, and set the snow globe on the ground. “Can you hear me?”

     “Yes! Dipper, thank god I've managed to get through to you,” came Ford's voice, a lot clearer than Dipper expected. “I managed to crack the globe, so we should be able to communicate easily.”

     “No, not good!” yelled Mabel, crawling over to the snow globe. “Where's Grunkle Stan?”

     “In his cabin, asleep,” Ford replied. “He hasn't come out for days, and I'm starting to worry...”

     Dipper glanced up at Bill, who was watching the reunion play out with a look of mild interest on his face. He met Dipper's gaze with a shrug. _Tell him whatever,_ he seemed to say. _This should be fun for me either way._

     “Listen, Great-uncle Ford,” Dipper said urgently. “You _cannot_ break this. Terrible things will happen if you do.”

     “What do you mean, son?” asked Ford. “Stan and I will be able to escape if we do.”

     “Grunkle Stan will lose all his memories if you do,” Mabel exclaimed. “The snow globe's keeping them trapped in there; if you break it they'll all escape!”

     Even though Ford was small in Dipper's eyes, he could easily see how pale Ford's face became at those words. “So that was what Bill meant by…” Ford dropped to his knees. _“No...”_

     “Aaaaaaaaaaaand I think that's enough for one visit,” Bill said, and with a flash of cyan, the globe flew back into his free hand. “And lookie here; I think I just felt the winds change.”

     “ _You devil!”_ yelled Ford. “You _heartless, deceitful **monstrosity**_ _ **!”**_

     “Your point?” asked Bill, raising an eyebrow.

     “I swear, when I get my hands on you—!”

     “I think 'if' is as optimistic as you're going to get, old friend,” Bill interrupted. Honestly, he did not know when to quit.

     Bill glanced at the other two Pines twins, wondering what he should do now. They were at his mercy, but they weren't a good six feet under like he had hoped. There was a chance that he could kill them both, but he didn't want to take another few hits to the eye, and if he smashed the snow globe, both Ford and the twins would be on him—he'd probably wind up dead and without a cure to this human state he was trapped in. What to do, what to do….

_Oh, I know. This'll be hilarious to watch…_

     “So,” Bill began conversationally. “Care to tell me where I can spend the night?”

     Dipper's eyebrows shot straight up. “What?”

     “Huh?” asked Mabel.

     “Excuse me?” shouted Ford. “No way in all dimensions are you—!”

     “Shut up, Sixer,” Bill ordered; the crack in the snow-globe vanished, forcing Ford to fall silent. “As I was saying,” Bill continued, a wicked grin on his face, “where do you think's a good place for me to stay the night? The sun's getting kinda low, anyway.”

     Dipper turned around to see how low the sun had gotten in the sky. “Oh man,” he muttered. “Mom and Dad are going to kill us!”

     “I was just about to say,” Bill added. “Oh, wait a moment. How about I stay at your place for now?”

     “Wha—no!” yelled Dipper.

     “Yeah, no way!” added Mabel. “As if we'd let you come into our house and look at our stuff—!”

     “You forget, Shooting Star,” Bill whispered, leaning down until his face was level with hers. “I know things that you've never spoken to about anyone.”

     “Yeah? Like what?” Mabel challenged.

     Bill closed his eyes and tried to search his personal void of infinite knowledge. It had thinned out since his transformation; after all, a human mind could never hold the sheer immensity of all the secrets of the universe. But some of it was still there.

     “I know that you used to have a crush on the man from the ten-dollar bill,” he replied. “And I know that you've started that crush up again because of all the theatrical attention he's been getting.”

     Mabel gasped. “I haven't even written that in my diary!”

     “Satisfied?” Bill asked, smirking.

     “This means nothing,” Dipper snapped. “There's no way on earth we'd ever let you into our house, near our _parents—!”_

     “Yeah, they don't know anything about your Weirdmaggedon or anything,” Mabel exclaimed. “Can't their lives stay innocent ones?”

     “An innocent life is a boring one,” Bill replied smoothly. “And you two will do whatever I say. Or else…well, I can imagine your parents would be sad if one of their uncles started suffering from memory loss…”

     Dipper and Mabel exchanged a glance. It was obvious that they didn't have a say in the matter. Bill had them wrapped around his little finger, and unless they ever managed to find an alternate way to restore ol' Fez's memory, they couldn't do anything about it.

     Ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20-8-5 16-9-14-5-19 1-18-5 9-14 1 20-18-9-3-11-25 19-16-15-20  
> 20-15 20-1-11-5 9-14 23-8-1-20 20-8-5-25 15-14-3-5 6-15-18-7-15-20.  
> 2-9-12-12'19 9-14-20-18-15-4-21-3-5-4 1 14-5-23 11-9-14-4 15-6 16-1-9-14;  
> 23-8-1-20 23-9-12-12 20-8-5-25 12-15-19-5, 23-8-1-20 23-9-12-12 8-5 7-1-9-14?


	9. Haze

The floor of the _Stan O'War II_ was bare and rough, and Ford ran his hands across it for the umpteenth time in a row. He had been thinking for what could have been minutes, what could have been hours. His hands were getting red from running it back and forth. He and Stan built this boat together. Formed memories together. Memories that would be dead and gone if he broke through the globe.

It wasn't just Stan's state of mind that had been bothering him. Bill was loose on the world, now. He was holding Dipper and Mabel hostage—and their parents, if they welcomed him into their home. This was all kinds of horrible. The worst part is that Ford had a million different ideas on how to crack the globe and stop Bill once and for all. Since he was trapped in a human form, he could be killed. He could finally end him and his future reign of madness forever, but…

But was losing Stan worth all that?

 _No._ The answer was so obvious that he almost shouted it aloud. There was no way he was giving up his brother. He had spent two years catching up with him. He was not going to give up after coming so far. Putting the death of Bill before his brother would be like stepping back into his old ways. If he was going to defeat Bill again, he wanted his brother by his side when he did.

Ford let out a breath as he got to his feet. _We'll think of something. We always do._ He strode into Stan's cabin, immediately wrinkling his nose at the stench smelly socks always brought with them. _I was always the neater one,_ he remembered. He sat beside Stan's snoring form, watching him as he slept.

He remembered doing this when Stan came home with bruises lining his face and arms. Ford would inquire as to what had happened, and Stan would make up some stupid excuse. But Ford knew that Stan had gone after the bullies at school, the ones that made fun of Ford's extra fingers. If Stan fell asleep before Ford, he would stay up and make sure he was sleeping peacefully before slipping into his own dream world.

Stan's mutterings snapped Ford out of his reverie. “Stan?” he called softly. “Are you alright?”

This wouldn't be the first time Stan muttered incomprehensibly in his sleep, but Bill's warning had Ford on red alert. If anything seemed even _slightly_ suspicious, he wasn't going to let it slide. He placed a firm hand on Stan's shoulder and shook him a little. “Stanley. What's wrong?”

“Meswith…good for something after all...” Stan mumbled before blearily opening his eyes. “Ford? What…what the heck's goin' on?”

“Uhm—you were talking in your sleep,” Ford answered, smiling.

“Since when did that bother you so much?” asked Stan. “You look horrible. Did you get any sleep at all?”

The answer was no, he hadn't. He had been working on the gadget that he used to crack the snow globe...but that was all for naught now. As of right now, Bill had all four of them wrapped around his little finger. He couldn't tell Stanley that. He couldn't crush him like that.

“Just some bad dreams,” Ford lied (though it technically wasn't a lie). “Which is strange, because we've been seeing nothing but clear skies and still waters for a while now.”

“Well, I'm sure some new eldritch horror will pop up somewhere,” Stan reassured. “Cheer you right up.”

Ford laughed and held up his hand. “Never change, Stan. High six?”

Stan stared at Ford's hand blankly. “What?”

Ford's smile faltered. “High six. Y'know, from when we were kids?”

Stan shook his head. “Never heard of it.”

Ford's heart nearly stopped as his hand fell to his side. _That was our code, our secret handshake! How—oh no. When I cracked the glass…?_

So this was Bill's play. He really meant it. Any mark on the glass meant Stan losing something. How many memories had he lost already? Did he even remember Mother and Father? Or Dipper and Mabel?

“Hey…it does sound like something I'd make up,” Stan said, trying to cheer Ford up. “High six. Yeah. Totally sounds like me.”

Ford abruptly stood up. “That demon's going to pay for this,” he muttered. “No one messes with my family and gets away with it.”

“Ford? What are you talking about?” asked Stan, but Ford was already walking to his study.

_Don't worry, Stanley. I'm going to get to the bottom of this as soon as I can._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 13-5-13-15-18-9-5-19 1-18-5 6-18-1-7-9-12-5; 8-15-12-4 20-8-5-13 3-12-15-19-5  
> 4-15-14'20 12-5-20 7-15--20-8-5-25'12-12 19-12-9-16 1-23-1-25  
> 6-15-18 20-8-5-25 1-18-5 20-8-1-20 23-8-9-3-8 13-1-20-20-5-18-19 13-15-19-20  
> 25-15-21'12-12 12-15-19-5 25-15-21-18-19-5-12-6 9-6 25-15-21 12-15-19-5 1 4-1-25


	10. Aftershock

     “Thank god our parents aren't here,” Mabel breathed as she pushed open the door to their house. It was a simple thing, expected of a family of four (five, when you counted Waddles). There was a kitchen, well-kept, a family room with a leather couch and a forty-inch flat screen on top of a cabinet. It was mostly Mabel's mother and father that used the TV, though. She and her bro-bro preferred to explore the wild outdoors. And the suburbs weren't all that bad…except during the winter.

     “That would have been bad,” Dipper admitted as he went inside. The twins wiped their muddy shoes on the doormat and headed into the empty house.

     Bill raised an eyebrow in disgust. _“This_ is where you live? No wonder you run to Gravity Falls every summer.”

     “Hey,” Mabel snapped. “I happen to like our house. It's a lot bigger than the Mystery Shack, and just as cool.”

     “Excuse me?” Bill snickered. “The Mystery Shack at least had class. All this—this neat and homey feel… _ugh_. It just doesn't appeal to my aesthetic.”

     Mabel shared a look with Dipper. They knew full well what appealed to Bill's aesthetic. They knew three days of it.

     “Whatever, Bill,” Dipper sighed. “Just keep moving.”

     Mabel led them up to the second level, where there was a master bedroom for their parents, another bedroom for Mabel and Dipper, and a bathroom. Mabel really liked this level; there were windows in every room, and she could see her high school and the park and the forest from them. But there was no way in all worlds that Mabel and Dipper would let Bill stay within feet of their or their parents' rooms.

     Dipper opened a door, revealing a small, narrow, winding staircase. “This is the attic,” Dipper said, stepping aside. “There's not much up there, just some old things from storage, the Christmas decorations. But it's the only place you can stay without Mom and Dad finding out.”

     Bill leaned in to look up the staircase and turned back to the twins. “How do I know there isn't some weird trap waiting up there?”

     “We weren't even _expecting_ you to still be alive!” Dipper yelled. “Why would we set up any traps?!”

     Bill flinched at the sudden volume of Dipper's voice. The movement was almost imperceptible, but Mabel caught it in the clench of his fists, the slight tightening in his facial features. For a split second, he looked shaken. But then his features rearranged themselves into a sneer as he bent down to Dipper's level (despite two years, Dipper had only grown about three inches since the two had last met).

     “No one can ever tell with a pair of troublesome, rotten, _nightmares_ like you,” he said, venom dripping from every word. With that, he turned and climbed the stairs, making sure to accent his exit with a door slam.

     “Geez,” Dipper muttered, disgusted. “Even in human form, he's such a drama queen.”

     Mabel hesitated, but nodded in agreement. “How are we going to cover for him, though? If Mom and Dad find out we're keeping a dream demon in the attic—!”

     “They'll kill us,” Dipper finished. “We'll have to cover up for him walking around. Maybe Waddles could stay up there?”

     “And leave him to possibly be attacked and butchered?” replied Mabel as she wrapped her arms around Waddles, who had ignored the doormat and was leaving mud tracks throughout the house. “Look at him! He doesn't deserve to die at Bill's hands!”

     “True...I doubt Waddles' hooves would make the same noise as Bill's feet, anyway,” Dipper agreed.

     “Never mind that—how are we supposed to feed him?” asked Mabel.

     Dipper scoffed. “He doesn't need to eat. In fact, if he does, we can let him starve.”

     Mabel's eyebrows shot straight up. “Dipper!” she chastised. “I know he turned everyone we ever liked into stone and locked me up in a bubble, but he's… _human_ now. If we let him die...” Mabel hesitated again. “...it'd be like committing an act of murder.”

     The two stood in silence as they processed it. Finally Dipper sighed and said “I know. But…he caused enough trouble two years ago, and know he's holding Great-uncle Ford and Grunkle Stan prisoner…he's trouble, Mabel. Trouble for you and me, and now for everyone else.” He took off his hat as thick, gleaming tears began to fill his eyes. “I w-wanted to keep Weirdmaggedon a secret from the rest of our f-family...” He sniffed. “B-but that's never gonna happen now…!”

     “Oh, Dipper...” Mabel threw her arms around her twin and he buried his face in the warmth of her sweater. There were times when all the nerd stuff melted away from him and she could see her small, vulnerable little brother again, the one that shaved off his own head to match hers in elementary school pictures, the one that was always by her side no matter what. This was one of those times. “Shh. It's going to be alright. I promise. We'll figure something out. We always do.”

     “B-b-but...” Dipper sniffed again, his eyes red and puffy from crying.

     “Shhhhh,” Mabel soothed, running her hands through his hair, just like their mother used to do to them when they were little. For a few moments she held him, waiting for his racking sobs to subside. When they did, she sat him on the couch and grabbed a bag of cookie mix from the cupboard. This called for Mabel's traditional chocolate-chip-and-marshmallow cookies.

     And about fifteen minutes later, Dipper perked up slightly as a smell resembling fresh s'mores wafted from the kitchen. Mabel appeared moments later, grinning from ear to ear as she held up a heaping plate of cookies and a huge pitcher of milk. “Cookie time!” she exclaimed, setting them down on the coffee table. “Made with extra marshmallows.”

     “Thank you, Mabel,” Dipper said with a smile. “Guess I overreacted a bit, huh?”

     “Naw, it's cool,” Mabel replied. “I probably would have reacted the same way, but I almost got hit by a car today. It's my turn to comfort you.”

     Dipper laughed and dipped a cookie into the pitcher. “Mystery Twins?”

     Mabel picked up a cookie and poked Dipper's with it like they were clinking glasses. “Mystery Twins,” she replied brightly.

     “Okay,” Dipper said. “Now. How are we going to deal with Mom and Dad?”

* * *

     Fooling Mr. and Mrs. Pines wasn't as hard as the twins thought it was going to be. The smell of Mabel's cookies—as well as the burgers she had made for dinner—filled the house with an extra layer of innocence and family. Mrs. Pines yelled at Mabel for letting Waddles track mud through the house, which she cleaned up without protest and showed off her pearly whites, which had been recently freed from the silver wires that used to adorn them. After that, Mabel casually hung around the attic door to make sure their hidden guest didn't decide to come downstairs while Dipper wove an extremely convincing tale about a day at their favorite cafe, complete with new additions to his journal. They were extra talkative and did all their homework before eight. Mr. Pines even made a few jokes at the dinner table, all of which Mabel and Dipper laughed at (despite how terrible they were). If there was anything the Pines parents were suspicious about at all, it was how happily obedient their children were acting. But they took it without comment and sent them off to bed before settling into their own bed half an hour later. They were those kinds of parents—completely normal, unaware of the weirdness of Gravity Falls, unaware that Dipper and Mabel were more than extraordinary and that a product of a cross-dimensional collision was hiding in their attic.

     To put it shortly, Dipper and Mabel overestimated them; they were in fact very easy to trick.

* * *

     Dipper had fallen asleep almost immediately, worn out by the excessive amount of running they had to do. He slept peacefully, dreamlessly, while Mabel couldn't find any amount of exhaustion in her system. Physically she was drained, but her mind refused to bend to her subconsciousness' tempting call. It was eleven fifty at night and she was still awake. Awake and thinking about Bill.

     There was something about him that bothered her. Aside from the fact that he trapped her grunkles in a snow globe and was currently living in their attic. He was starting to act...well... _human,_ and Mabel doubted he even knew about it. She had found that she could read his facial expressions extremely well after they realized it was him: he was angry a lot, cocky almost twice as much, and lately pretty annoyed with the twins' home life. But there were times when she saw fear in his expressions too. When he was hanging off the edge of the cave. When the cave almost collapsed on all of them. And recently, when Dipper yelled at him.

 _Could it be that Bill's becoming human allowed him to express emotions that he couldn't before?_ Mabel wondered. She knew that two years ago, Bill was able to convey emotions fairly well, but his absence of a second eye, a nose, and a mouth made it hard for Mabel to tell what he was thinking. Now, she could really see it, and she suspected that if Dipper looked hard enough, he could too.

_He's probably all alone, scared, trapped in a body he doesn't even recognize as his own…_

     Mabel threw off her covers and slid her feet into the slippers at the foot of her bed. Just lying around would get her nowhere.

     She crept downstairs, careful not to disturb her parents' snores as she threw together a plate containing some warm milk, two chocolate-chip-and-marshmallow cookies, and half a loaf of sourdough bread. Demon or no demon, Mabel knew that going a day without food or water meant trouble, both physically and mentally. She crept back upstairs and eased the attic door open.

     “Bill?” she called softly. There was no reply. So she sighed and climbed the stairs to the attic, weaving around spare crates and boxes until she found him, looking—if possible—even more disgruntled than when they first showed him around. His black eye had gotten so much more pronounced; in the dim light of the attic, his clothes looked even more dirty and torn than they had been after their escape. He was asleep on the floor, but he slept with the air of something that never had to. He was curled up—possibly for warmth—and his frame shivered and twitched every so often. It was like he was trying to stay awake, but his subconscious wouldn't allow it. And the expression on his face was one that anyone could have recognized: tense features, clenched fists, the occasional jerking of the head...he was definitely having a nightmare.

     The sight was almost pitiful to look at. It was hard to believe that this was the monster that almost made Grunkle Ford a paranoid lunatic, drove McGucket into insanity, and trapped her inside a bubble of her own twisted imagination (seriously, why hadn't she seen that MabelLand had been way too bright from the start?). He didn't carry any of that aura now; he just looked small and scared.

     Mabel set the tray down next to Bill and stared at him for a while, half-curious, half-sympathetic. Then she stood up, brushed herself off, and marched downstairs to find her knitting tools.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 19-20-1-18 9-19 3-15-12-4 1-14-4 4-9-19-20-1-14-20 1-14-4 2-18-9-7-8-20  
> 2-21-20 20-8-9-19 15-14-5 9-19 19-8-9-14-9-14-7 1-14-4 11-9-14-4.  
> 16-5-18-8-1-16-19 19-8-5'12-12 20-18-25 20-15 2-18-5-1-11 1 19-8-5-12-12  
> 1-14-4 20-15-21-3-8 23-8-1-20 18-5-19-20-19 9-14-19-9-4-5.


	11. The Herald

     “Ford, are you sure you're okay?”

     “Couldn't be better,” Ford muttered as he continued his pacing. “Just get some rest, Stanley.”

     “No,” Stan retorted. “You can't just drill me for information and then pace around on the deck for hours, not saying anything. What the heck's going on?”

     After Ford had fully wrapped his mind around the physics and boundaries of the snow globe they were trapped in, he had gone back to Stan and had basically asked him to recount his entire life up until the day they left for the Bermuda Triangle. It seemed like Stan remembered what he was expected to remember because of his age. The only thing that had escaped his memory was “High Six.” So Ford had left Stan's cabin feeling relieved. But the relief hadn't lasted very long.

     If he sailed straight up to the edge of the snow globe, he could see into the outside world. Right now, he saw wooden walls, stacks of crates, Christmas decorations, and a plate of bread and cookies. _We must be in the Pines' house...probably the attic,_ he thought. _I hope that Dipper and Mabel's parents haven't found out about Bill yet…_

     And then there was the perpetual problem of Bill Cipher. He hadn't even taken over the world yet, but he had still managed to take Ford's heart and crush it into a thousand pieces. Holding he and his brother prisoner while he wrapped Dipper and Mabel's lives around his finger…he knew that giving up was never an option, but any move he made to try and escape resulted in Stan losing something. For a second, Ford wondered if the memories Stan was losing were specifically related to Ford himself. “High Six” had been a secret thing that only they had known about…

     “I'm not going to lose you again,” Ford muttered.

     “I'm right here,” Stan snapped.

     Ford blinked, realizing that Stanley had not left yet. “Sorry. Forget I said anything.”

     “No.  Enough,” Stan replied, standing so close to Ford that he could feel Stan's breath on his face. “You're going to tell me what's going on, right now. You've been acting way too strange for this to be nothing.”

     “But—!” _Who knows what telling you could do!_

     “No buts,” Stan said. “I'm not stupid, Ford. We're not in the Bermuda Triangle right now, are we?”

     Ford stopped mid-sentence, his eyes fixed on Stan's. “What did you say?”

     “I may not be a sea captain, but I know that winds changing suddenly isn't normal,” Stan said. “Also, why isn't it, you know, really hot out here? It's supposed to be hot in the Bermuda Triangle, right? We're basically in the Bahamas. It's not hot or cold out here, it's...well, it's room temperature.”

     Ford took a deep breath. He didn't know if Stanley could see the fake sea and the sequins, but everything he said was true. There was no logical explanation for any of the things Stanley had listed. His brow furrowed. He could almost hear Bill in his mind, taunting him.

_Go on, Poindexter. Tell him everything. See what happens. I double-dare you. I bet you're too scared…_

     “We're being held captive by something,” Ford finally said. “It's given us the illusion that we're safe, but I've been checking my nautical charts, and where we are doesn't exist on any map.” Technically, it wasn't a lie.

     Stan nodded. “Okay. So how do we escape?”

     Ford blinked, surprised that that was all it took to cover for himself.

_He must reeeeeaally trust you…_

     He shook his head. “I don't know...but I'm trying to figure it out. There are invisible walls all around us, but they're impossible to break.”

     “Eh, I guess we'll figure it out,” Stan sighed. “Ugh, why did we have to go to the Bermuda Triangle, of all places?”

     “Wait...you _wanted_ to come here, Stanley,” Ford answered, a bit confused. “Don't you remember?”

     “No I didn't,” Stan argued. “Why would I want to come all the way down here? Wasn't our mission to stay near the Arctic Circle?”

     Ford's brow furrowed. He remembered having the discussion plain as day: they had just finished studying the suckers of a giant, venomous squid when Stan had made the suggestion. _“It's way too cold up here, Poindexter,”_ he had complained. _“Why not go someplace like the Bahamas? I bet loads of_ _babes_ _are there.”_

     They had argued for several minutes, but eventually Ford had agreed, mainly because most of his studies were done anyways and they were due for a break. And who _wouldn't_ want to study the Bermuda Triangle? After all, he had never been.

     “Well, yes, it was,” Ford finally replied. “You don't remember making a suggestion to go?”

     “No,” Stan muttered. “Come to think of it...how _did_ we get here?”

     Ford stared up at his brother, horrified. “You don't remember the journey?” he whispered, his voice shaking.

     Stan closed his eyes, thinking, and then opened them again. “No,” he finally said, fear beginning to creep into his voice. “Oh my gosh. Why can't I remember a whole journey? That's crazy!”

     Ford just stood there, taking all this new information in. That had been before Bill had trapped them in the snow globe. That had nothing to do with “High Six” or any other memories that Stan could possibly lose. That had happened last _month._ And yet, he had walked up to him plain as day, asking if they could go to the Bahamas, which just happened to be in the Bermuda Tri…

     Ford's breath caught in his throat. The Bermuda Triangle. The Bermuda _Triangle._

     How could he have been so blind?

_Bill had been controlling him that entire time._

     If there was one certain place that Bill would want to escape into the human world, the Bermuda Triangle was it. In Ford's studies, there hadn't been anything unusual about the place, only that it had a huge influx of weird properties (not weird happenings, like Gravity Falls, but weird properties. It held the potential to be a place like Gravity Falls, but wasn't there yet). When Bill had fled from Stan's mind last night, he must have drawn power from the weirdness around him to escape. Of course he hadn't been expecting what it would do to him, so he ended up being transported to Piedmont in human form. The whole thing made perfect sense.

     But why _Piedmont_ of all places? If anything, he should have been transported back to Gravity Falls, where his physical form still rested, covered in moss. Or maybe one of the other paranormal hot-spots.

     “Excuse me,” said Ford as he ducked around his brother, leaving him yelling on the deck. He ran into his cabin and pulled out his map of paranormal hot-spots around the world. And almost cried aloud.

     They had all been switched around. The dot for Gravity Falls had stayed firmly in its place, but the other dots had moved. The one dot that had been in the Arctic Circle had moved down to the Bermuda Triangle, which made Ford wonder exactly how long Bill had been controlling Stan. But there was one thing that made Ford's skin crawl even more: one of the dots—Ford had remembered it being for the area around Washington D.C. and New Jersey—was now hovering over Piedmont, California.

     “Oh _no,”_ Ford whispered. _“We have to warn them..."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19-15 8-9-19 6-9-18-19-20 16-12-1-14 4-9-4-14'20 7-15 20-15-15 23-5-12-12  
> 4-15-5-19 1-14 1-14-3-9-5-14-20 16-18-15-16-8-5-3-25 18-9-14-7 1 2-5-12-12?  
> 20-8-15-21-7-8 2-9-12-12'19 20-18-25-9-14-7 20-15 4-15 8-9-19 2-5-19-20,  
> 8-5'19 15-14-12-25 1 8-5-18-1-12-4 6-15-18 23-8-1-20 3-15-13-5-19 14-5-24-20.


	12. Yarn Shenanigans and Mabel Juice

     Dipper woke up early that morning. Upon checking the clock, he could tell that he had at least a few hours before the bus would be here to pick them up for school. This usually happened when he was excited or nervous about something. In this case, the “something” was the dream demon in their attic.

     Bill really did seem to have all of the trump cards this time. Even if they did manage to steal the snow globe from him, they wouldn't be able to get Ford and Stan out safely, all memories intact, without his assistance. And then there was the issue of Mom and Dad; what would they do when they found out that they were keeping a fully-grown man in their attic? They'd throw him out, most likely, leaving him out from under the twins' supervision. And Dipper wasn't about to let that happen.

 _Ugh,_ he thought, running his fingers through his hair. _If only we still had the journals! Great-uncle Ford probably knew something about trapping Bill. Would the circle still work? But we'd have to go back to Gravity Falls to form it, and there's no way Bill would go there without a fight…_

     Sighing, he got dressed and headed downstairs in search of his sister, who seemed to have been up before Dipper. _She's probably got a lot weighing her down too. After all, she did almost get hit by a car yesterday…_

     Dipper's first thought was to check the Mystery Room. It was a small, extra room in the basement that was put aside as a kind of playroom for Dipper and Mabel when they were younger. Dipper kept his scientific research on one side, and Mabel kept her knitting tools and stickers and...well...everything else...on her side.

     “Mabel?” Dipper called softly, stepping into the Mystery Room. “Are you down he— _whoa.”_

     Dipper had barely made it across the threshold before he stepped on a tangled pile of yarn and stickers. Upon looking up, he saw his sister with yarn wrapped around her arms and three new sweaters—one blue, one pink, and one yellow—strewn around her. There were bags under her eyes, and she kept teetering, like she was about to fall asleep at any moment.

     “Mabel, what are you doing?” asked Dipper. “Were you up all night?”

     “Oh heeeeey, bro-bro!” Mabel looked up and waved. “Yeah, I couldn't sleep, so I went to go make a sweater, but then I got the idea for these two!” She held up the blue sweater, which had white cursive letters embroidered into it: _If I get lost, please return to Mabel._ The pink one had the same white script on it, but with different words: _I am Mabel._

     “I thought Waddles and I could wear them,” Mabel said. “This way I wouldn't have to chase him into the street again!”

     Dipper smiled and shook his head. “You're nuts, you know that?” he asked. “We have school today.”

     “Aw, don't worry! I'm on five shots of Mabel Juice,” Mabel replied confidently. “I can stay up for two more days before it starts wearing off!”

     Dipper barely concealed a cringe. He'd tried Mabel's “concoctions” before, and he doubted even Bill could drink them with a completely straight face. How could Mabel drink it like it was water? “What about the other sweater?” he asked, trying to change the subject. “Who's that for?”

     At that Mabel paused and looked over at the other sweater like she had just realized it was there. “Oh, that? That's a _secret.”_

     She said it with one of those sly smiles that made Dipper want to put a stop to whatever she was planning, but he stifled it and beckoned upstairs. “Come on. Let's get dressed for school.”

     “Lead the way, Sir Dipping Sauce!”

     “You'll never run out of nicknames for me, will you?”

     “Nope!”

     As the twins got dressed, Dipper had a thought: Mom and Dad were going to work, and he and Mabel were going to school. That meant Bill would be alone in their house with nothing but time on his hands.

     Bill Cipher. _In their house._ _ **Alone.**_

     “Mabel, we need to stay home!” Dipper exclaimed. There was no answer. “Mabel?” Dipper looked around, but she was nowhere to be found. Maybe in the bathroom…?

     “Sorry, Dipper,” Mabel said as she reappeared in the bedroom door. “I was just checking on Bill.”

     “Is he still asleep?”

     “Yeah, conked out,” Mabel replied confidently. “You'd think the guy never slept in all the years he's lived.”

     “Probably hasn't,” Dipper agreed. “Wait. Mabel, we can't leave; who knows what he could do while Mom and Dad aren't here!”

     Mabel's eyes widened for a moment, but then she relaxed. “I wouldn't be too worried, Dipper. He isn't up to full power yet, and we can just hide all the stuff we don't want him to find. Seriously, what can he do? From what we've seen, all he can really do is make stuff float around.”

     Dipper stared at her. “Mabel. He flipped a car over. 'Making stuff float around' is a major understatement. _We have to stay home.”_

     Mabel's head hung. Dipper could tell that he had gotten through to her, but then she said “But we have that presentation today. We'll get a bad grade if we skip school…”

     Dipper almost face-palmed. She was right; they had a major project due in history class—a good part of which was an oral presentation. They had gotten the visual aid done the previous week, but they were giving it that day. And he was _not_ going to let Bill take pride in being the source of an excellent project gone bad.

     “Okay, fine,” he stated. “I think I've got an idea. We can use the alarm system.” Dipper ran downstairs to retrieve a small, plastic box from his father's study; Mabel was right at his heels. “If Bill leaves the house or breaks anything, we'll know because this'll go off. And our teachers will understand if our house alarm suddenly goes off.”

     “Oh yeah, I forgot about that,” Mabel said. “Ooh! And remember that camera-helicopter Mom got you for Christmas? We could hang that somewhere in the attic to watch him if he ever leaves.”

     “Good thinking,” Dipper said. “Y'know, great minds...”

     “Think alike,” Mabel finished, a huge grin plastered on her face. “I'll go get the helicopter, you make sure to get the poster for our visual aid.”

     “Right,” Dipper replied, and ran downstairs to the Mystery Room, making sure to hide all of his important studies so Bill couldn't get his hands on them. There wasn't anything _life-threatening_ there, but Dipper didn't even like his parents looking through his research.

     “Everything set up?” asked Mabel, waiting at the door for him.

     “Yup,” Dipper replied, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Now, let's just hope we don't come home to chaos at the end of the day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 14-15-23 2-9-12-12'19 1-12-15-14-5; 20-8-5 8-15-21-19-5 9-19 20-15-15.  
> 1 4-1-25 15-6 6-9-14-4-9-14-7 23-8-1-20 20-15 4-15…  
> 5-9-20-8-5-18 20-8-9-14-7-19 23-9-12-12 2-5 1 16-9-5-3-5 15-6 3-1-11-5  
> 15-18 20-8-5 16-9-14-5-19 10-21-19-20 13-1-4-5 1 7-18-1-22-5 13-9-19-20-1-11-5.


	13. EX QJ FKQQEJ

W _ailing. Screeching. Fear. It was tradition, when these two came out to fight, to hide, but this battle was cut short._

 

 _The monster reared its head to attack again, but before it could get a good peck in, its opponent seemed to pause in its assault. With a triumphant, bloodcurdling scream, the abomination opened its beak and bit off its opponent's large, furry head. The thing's body dropped like a rock onto the ground. The monster took the body in its enormous claws and flew east towards the ocean, where it watched it sink beneath the gigantic waves, gone for_ e _ver. There was no coming back this time._

 

 _Newly freed from the endless cycle of battling_ i _ts near-immortal foe every other century, the creature let out another scream of triumph, rattling the eardrums of the terrified humans nearby. But soon its cries died down as it began to think. It knew what had stopped its enemy's attack; something in the envi_ r _onment had...shifted. The hunting grounds that the two had fought over had changed suddenly. No longer did the puny humans in this area seem like worthy prey anymore. Somewhere in this vast country a new set of hunting grounds had moved and appeared elsewhere. The question was, where exactly?_

 

_The creature spread its great, feathered wings again and turned its back on the ocean. Somehow, it would find its home again. And when it did, it would wreak unholy havoc, just like it had in this old one._

 

 _It shivered in anticipation. Sometimes it was goo_ d _to switch things up a bit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19-12-13-5 10-14-5-4-26-23-21 10-9-3-15-15  
> 5-22-21 8-23-22-2-25 23-17-22-22-10 23-11 23-19-16  
> 9-1-5-26 11-11-1 6-13-18-22-16  
> 1-17-11-11 6-25-1-11 18-10-9 13-16-8


End file.
